


A Taste of Red

by megmeg654



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-25 18:34:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14384616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megmeg654/pseuds/megmeg654
Summary: After they defeat the white walkers, Sandor heads back south to Winterfell where he meets a girl- turned woman he once knew. After everything they've been through will the tides of war keep them apart, or will they push though it all to reach one another.Sansa never imangined she might see him again after news of his death- but by some miracle her former would be saviour is back, and as clueless as ever.





	1. Chapter 1

 Sandor stood before the King of the North, the Imp and Ser Davos- the Queen nowhere to be seen at present. The boy Gendry stood to his right, and the ginger fuck Tormund to his left- it had been a long fight here past the wall, but finally the Night King and his whole fucking army had been defeated. 

  It had taken almost a year and a half to finally defeat the cold fuckers- and in that time Sandor had somehow got himself in a position of commander, along with the two men at his sides. And as one of the Northern Kings commanders he was required to be here, to discuss what to do next. Sandor knew what the Targaryen girl wanted to do- head straight to King's landing and chop off mad Queen Cersei's head straight off, and he couldn't deny the thrill the thought of going back there gave him. The possibility to kill his brother- or whatever abomination he was now, Gregor had to die- permanently this time.

 Tormund was first to speak in the small room they all sat in, “Where's your Dragon Queen?” 

“The Queen and her dragons are accustomed to the frigid temperatures of the North, they had taken a moment to go further south. They will return, and in the meantime Jon, Davos and I will speak in her stead. We have some plans to make….”

  Jon nodded his head along with Tyrion before asking Ser Davos what he proposed they might do next, “Well we have pledged ourselves to the Queen when you bent the knee to her, and I can only assume she will want us heading south as soon as possible- so I propose we put as many men on ships and then march with the rest down to King's Landing.”

   Sandor could only scoff- a true testament to someone who had never been a soldier, something this Davos man had certainly never been. 

  “Do you have a better idea Ho- Clegane?” The Imp incredulessly asked him, but Sandor could only respond to the boy King- not being able to look at the little man without thinking of him being formally married to a certain little bird.

  “That's a stupid fucking plan…”

It was silent in the room as they waited for him to elaborate, save for the chuckle that came from his left- “And….. Is that all your going to say?”

  “No, your grace. I've been a soldier my entire life and riding- or marching to King's Landing from here is asking for half of the rest of your army to die before they reach that god damn city. Either from loss of limb, starvation, fatigue- who gives a shit…. Most of the men wouldn't make it if we left today and then where would we be? Stuck with a Queen who fucks her brother, and kills her own children- a stupid fucking plan.” 

  The harsh words made the King flinch, but looking into his somber eyes Sandor knew Jon respected the honesty.  

   “He’s right- the men need rest.”

Tyrion looked to speak up, “I don't know if that is what the Queen wishes to do-”

   “Clegane- you, Tormund and Gendry will take the remaining Freefolk, and the rest of the northern army back to Winterfell- I will send a raven home at once so my sister is ready to receive you,” Jon continued to speak.

  But all Sandor heard was sister. Sister?

“The Unsullied and myself will head back to Dragon Stone with the Queen- you will let the men rest and recover from this war, but you will also keep them fresh and in fighting shape. We will send word when the time comes to march south again. Understood?”

  Sandor and the wildling nodded at the young King, but it was Gendry who asked the question that sat on the tip of Sandor’s tongue- “Sister? Arya?”

  Jon chuckled thinking of Arya being the one to receive them- a stark difference to the way Sansa would do it no doubt, “No- as amusing as that might be it won't be Arya. She's at winterfell, but it will be Sansa who lets you through the gates of Winterfell.”

  Sansa.

Even thinking the name made his throat tighten- that made his tongue feel numb- a feeling of drunkenness that he hadn't felt in years. 

   “And the big woman? Will she be there?”

Sandor rolled his eyes at the almost crazy obsession Tormund had with Brienne of Tarth- although who was he to judge, hung up on the memory of a girl he hadn't seen in years. He had dreams of her often, flashes of bright red would flash through his dreams whenever he had the luxury of an actual nights rest. 

  She would flit through his dreams- sometimes happy, sometimes cripplingly sad. He would call out for her- reach for her, only to wake up in the cold harshness of war, with her flaming silk locks slipping through his fingers when leaving the fantasies of dreamland. 

  “Yes, the Lady Brienne is acting Sworn shield to my sisters. I suggest you ride hard to Winterfell, the sooner you get there- the sooner you rest. Thank you, my friends- I'll see you in King's landing in a few months, brothers.” The King's words couldn't be more accurate for the three men leaving that room. 

   All three no doubt yearning for rest and safety- but underneath the need for those basic desires, they all had other reasons to ride hard to Winterfell.

   Secrets for both Sandor and Gendry- whole more of an open call for Tormund. 

It took the the whole group another week to prepare to leave, with the trio in the front they headed south. And he couldn't be more anxious. Sandor had been waiting for this for years- dreaming of finally seeing her, and it was so close he could practically taste it. 

  Taste his own desperation, taste his anger- anger at what he had heard about her. About what he heard they had done to her, every time Sandor heard any whispers of her woes- you could bet he was a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield or in the training yard not long after.  

   It took almost a full months turn to finally see the castle- with all the people traveling alongside them, they were constantly camping. If it were up to Sandor they would have rode their horses near death to get to her sooner.

 But as much as he might have liked to do that- riding Stranger to death wouldn't be the way his great warhorse would go. He had made it this far, Sandor would make sure Stranger lived out his days fucking and grazing as much as he pleased. 

   The closer they got to the gates, the worse his temper became- he couldn't help it. This was a moment he had been thinking about for who knows how fucking long- and yet he still had no notion of what he was going to say. 

  What was there to say? 

How does one greet the little bird after so long apart?

  The ride to the gates looked almost exactly the same as when he arrived all those years ago, but when they opened the scene in front of him was quite different. 

  There she was.

A woman grown.

  The little bird.

His little bird.

  Beautiful.

And untouchable.

  Never meant for the likes of him. 

Sandor schooled his expression as best he could when dismounting his mighty destrier, trying his hardest to calm his heartbeat,

   And there she stood with her crippled brother and wolf-bitch sister.

There was something different about her- maybe it was the silly girlishness that had finally left her eyes, but in its place was a sadness. A sadness he had hoped to never see in those pretty Tully eyes. 

  Eyes that were staring at him.

Eyes that were making contact and not breaking.

  Something else that had changed since all those days ago.

And somehow now it was him who couldn't hold eye contact, so he looked at the other one. At Arya, who he expected to be receiving a death glare. But instead found that deadly gaze on Gendry, who sheepishly held his head down to avoid it. 

  “Well if it isn't my lovely fire sister!” Tormund stepped forward and pulled the little bird into a hug- completely disregarding the formalities he was sure she was trying to show. 

  And Sandor couldn't deny the burning jealousy that flamed through him when she wrapped her dainty arms around him to return the hug. 

  “It is good to see you again, friend.”

Friend?

  What fucking friend?

She pulled back and again her eyes met his own, but this time he wouldn't look away- not after the ginger headed fuck had just taken such liberties with her, why should he be so nervous?

   It was her who broke this time when she turned toward Gendry to introduce herself, the boy smiled back at her before bending at the waste and taking her hand, “Then names Gendry, m’lady.” 

  Before the little bird could respond the she wolf scoffed, and whispered in a not so quiet way, “M’lady? The stupid idiot……”

   Sansa ignored her and responded to the bastard, “Gendry is it? Well I've heard a lot about you.” 

  What had she heard?   
Who had she heard it from?

   Gods, he sounded like a jealous fool- wondering this and that!

Finally- finally she turned to him.

  “Sandor…..” And it was magic- he had never heard her say his name. In his dreams maybe, but the real thing was no comparison. 

  He couldn't respond. There was so much to say- and yet he was tongue tied.

“I'm so glad you are alive and well- I….. I grieved for you when they told me you had died. So imagine my surprise when my own brother tells me you were fighting up there with him- the gods have truly answered my prayers for you, Sandor.” She spoke softly, and it felt like there was no one else left in the whole courtyard save for the two of them.

  “My lady…”

She cut him off before he could go on, “Sansa- I will always be Sansa to you.Or perhaps even little bird, maybe?”

  He felt like he was choking- from shock, and emotion. “My Lady Sansa, I-”

“Sansa.” She was a persistent little thing.

    “Fine. Sansa, I have so much I need to say to yo-” Before he could finish the ginger devil cut him off.

  “Sorry to interrupt the reunion but I think I could eat a horse raw- is it time for supper yet or should I have the big woman take me to the kitchens?”

  The blush on both Sansa and Brienne’s faces was well worth the anger he felt towards the man for interrupting their little moment.

 “If you'll forgive me, of course bring all your men and such to the dining hall I have everything prepared- if you'll follow me.” She left before he could say anything else and Sandor knew he would do anything for her.

 Kill anyone.

For her.

 Become an idiot.

For her.

  Act a fool.

For her. 

  All for her.

All for a taste of Red.

  For a little moment of her sunshine like smile.

Sandor was a man entranced.

  Had been for her ever since the beginning.

“I guess it's not gingers ya hate, now is it dog?” The fist that met the wildlings face only brought laughter out of the both of him- no matter how true that statement might be. 

   She was everything.


	2. Chapter 2

 

 Sansa walked through the halls with the three men following behind her- an interesting group that led the soldiers back home to Winterfell. With the boy Arya had mentioned as the youngest of the trio- Gendry was his name. And a pretty one at that, something she could no doubt tease her sister about endlessly- then the wildling her brother had introduced her to before the battle of the bastards. Tormund was an affectionate man- something she didn't mind, but knew was the bane of Brienne's existence. 

 And finally Sandor Clegane, a man up until a year or so ago she thought had been dead. When she got the raven that Jon was heading to Kings landing she had been furious- that her brother had bent the knee to this foreign queen without ever consulting her, but the bigger surprise had been the group of people that would escort him- with her Hound included. 

 Sansa had been elated that he was still breathing- and prayed to any God listening to protect him in the upcoming wars to come- and here he was with the old gods and the new having kept him safe so he could return to her at least one last time. 

  “Gentlemen I tried my best to give as many rooms to both the incoming soldiers and remaining wildlings their own rooms, but alas some of them will be needing to share. But I have made it a priority to make sure you men have your own rooms.” 

  Gendry spoke from behind her, “No m’lady it's not necessary-”

“Don't be silly- of course it's necessary. However the only rooms I have left for you are in the family wing- you will be comfortably welcomed if I have anything to say about it. I sent for baths to be waiting in your rooms when you arrived, so they will be there whenever your ready.” Sansa stopped at a door and turned back to the men. Trying her best to keep her eyes from roaming to the behemoth of a man that was Sandor Clegane, she turned to Tormund- “These will be your chambers, Tormund. I hope they will be suitable. Once you are finished bathing, you need only ask and some maids will come to take the water away- that goes for all of you.”

  The ginger smiled at her, “Thanks little lady- is there training going on in the courtyard?”

“Yes, as far as I know- my shield should be out there training at the moment with her squire if you should like to join them.” Sansa watched the wildling grin in a wicked way before moving to close the door- before she heard a small whisper, “Ahh the big woman- here I come….”

   She couldn't help but laugh to herself- the devotion this man held for Brienne was quite strange, but amusing and fun in a way she knew could be beautiful if her tall friend could accept the man- Sansa continued walking only a few feet, “This way gentlemen….”

  Sansa didn't turn around but heard the shuffling of both of the men behind her, finally coming to another door she turned back around to Gendry, “Here you are Gendry- these will be your rooms.”

   “Thank you m’lady.” The young man smiled back at her gratefully, and she knew in some ways why her sister might hold some sort of affection for this boy who had been her companion so long ago. 

   “My pleasure- this way Clegane….” The door closed behind her and now it was only the two of them. He hadn't said anything since they were in the courtyard- and the silence was killing her. What does one say in this situation? 

  How does one begin?

Sansa knew there were no words that could express the regret she had for letting him leave without her on that fateful day- and yet it was him again who saved her by speaking first, “The family wing?”

  “Yes- it is only suitable for men of your- for men who have done so much for us here at Winterfell.” She felt his soft touch on her arm and she couldn't help but turn to look up at him. Couldn't help but look into those eyes- those gray depths that froze her in place. 

   “Well all the other men helped keep the walkers from reaching Winterfell, yet it's only us here in the family wing. They did as much as we...” She had almost forgotten how large he was, how tall he was compared to her- a giant in the ways she had to look up at him. Sansa was a tall woman compared to most of the other women here in Winterfell- she always felt so large and gangly compared to the small dainty girls surrounding her. But with Sandor- not with him, with him she felt like a small precious thing that could be help in a way that made her feel special. 

  “None like you- no men here that has protected me- protected us as fiercely as you.” His eyes softened even further, a stark  difference from the man she once knew. From the anger fueled fuery in his eyes that had scared her so. 

   “Little bird….” Her eyes welled up and she knew she was close to tears- tears because of what could have been, instead of what was. And she couldn't handle it- not right now, so she continued walking until she finally came to what would be his door. 

  “Here you are, Sandor. I've made sure to put a screen in front of the fireplace, the rooms and walls of winterfell are heated so you should be warm.” Making sure to school her face, Sansa turned back to face him- and regretted it immediately. 

  He would always know- always know when she was lying, or in this case trying to shield her emotions from him. “Sansa I- I'm sorry…”

“Sorry? For what?” Confused she stepped closer, before moving to grab his hands. 

  “For what? Fuck Sansa- for everything…. For all that happened in King’s Landing- I was a drunk and it's no excuse, but I should have been better. Been better to you- instead of some monster who scared you at every turn.” Confusion turned to anger- an anger she could hardly contain. 

  “A monster? You? Sandor Clegane, you are no monster-”

He cut her off, “No monster? Look at me- I scared you every day, I was a terrible thing, and I'm trying to apologize for it!”

  She was angry- and starting to yell, “Well I don't accept!”

Now it was his turn to raise his voice, “Why the fuck not?”

 “Because you aren't a fucking monster! I've seen monsters- I see them everyday! Every night! And you might have been a little harsh or brash- but most monsters are hidden behind pretty faces and too cowardly to admit they've made a mistake! Now I don't care what the hell you think about yourself - but if need be I will be the one to tell you that you are no fucking monster!” All she could see was shock- most likely at her language, or maybe at what she said. But it was what she believed- a belief she held dearly, because Sandor was NO monster. He was one of the only who had ever given her a choice- and in the end she had made the wrong choice but it was HER choice. Sansa had seen enough of the true monsters of this world to know that he wasn't one of them- and she would defend her decision until the end of time, to anyone including Sandor if they tried to say otherwise. 

   “Little- Sansa I- Are you okay?” He moved his hand towards her face to wipe a stray tear- something she hadn't realized she had been doing- crying that is. 

  “Yes, I will be. I will- and if not I'll just come to see you. That's my room right there,” She turned her body to point down the hall, about twenty feet from his doorway at the moment. Something that wasn't just some coincidence- Sansa knew where she was putting him, and how close he would be.

  “Sansa I wi- Thank you.” Sandor lifted the hand that was still resting in his, up to his scarred lips- and left her with a kiss. Like that fateful day- but this one she knew was real, and knew was only a kiss on the hand. Nothing so personal as the one she had imagined all those years ago. 

  She left him at the door, and walked back to her own room- only one last glance at his door, and found him still there watching her. And she couldn't deny that she was home- but for the first time since being here she actually felt safe.

Sansa closed the door behind her, and ran straight to her chest- she reached as far down as she could until she felt it. The rough fabric that had made her feel safe all the times she slept beneath it- the burnt edges, the old blood and dirt stains, the familiar white cloak he had given her so long ago. 

  Well maybe not given to her, but left behind with her, draped her with it to cover her nakedness- this cloak was one of the most precious items she owned. An item that was still a secret- something no one else knew she had kept,but she loved the dirty thing all the same. 

  Sansa pulled it out from the trunk and unfolded it before walking back to her bed, she laid down and covered herself with it- hoping she could catch a few hours of sleep before dinner tonight. For all these years, she had convinced herself the dirty cloak still smelled of him- but now that he was here, she knew she was wrong. Sandor smelled so different- a many scent that had enveloped her in his protection the minute she got a whiff. 

   Despite it all Sansa was unsure how she would describe the strange connection Sandor and herself shared to anyone else- but knew it didn't matter. She knew how important he was, knew how much he meant to her- despite no one else understanding, it didn't matter. 

   He was hers.

He didn't know it.

  She scarcely knew it herself.

But the minute she saw him walk through the gates, she knew. 

  Sansa knew she wouldn't let him go. 

Not without a fight- because that's what she would do. 

  She would fight for him- fight tooth and nail for anything he could give her.

And she wasn't ashamed to admit it. 

  He meant more to her than she could put into words. 

She couldn't describe it to anyone else, including herself.

  All Sansa knew was that he was important. 

As she curled up under the cloak she prayed for sleep, dreamless sleep- knowing if she didn't sleep now, she wouldn't sleep at all tonight either. And Sansa knew not sleeping for twenty four hours was not a good idea- as she had done it many times before. Dark circles under her eyes were a constant companion- but it wasn't something she could control. Almost everytime she closed her eyes she saw the true monsters of her nightmares.

 Littlefinger.

Ramsey.

  Both of them dead by her own design- but still living in her mind. 

The monsters she couldn't seem to get away from.  

   No matter who she killed to make it stop.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me what you think!! I'd love to know!! XOXO

  Arya woke early to get a head start on any training that had to be done- her Needle must be in constant practice. She also knew she would need an able training partner, someone to take her frustrations out on. Someone who could challenge her- but someone she knew she could beat in the end. 

  The soldiers and the wildlings had arrived two days before, along with the Hound, and the one they called Tormund Giantsbane- and then  _ him. _ Gendry.

   He had tried talking with her these past few days, and she tried her best to avoid it. He tried at their welcome dinner the night all of them arrived, he tried to escort her back to her rooms- like she needed an escort? And not to mention her bloody sister, who put him in the  _ family wing _ ! She couldn't believe good and proper Sansa, Sansa who never did anything scandalous- put him in the room two doors down from her own. He tried again the next day when she was training- Gendry wouldn't stop. 

  She wouldn't lie- it was somewhat flattering how much he wanted to speak with her, Arya would never admit it outloud- but she wouldn't lie to herself. 

  Arya snuck out of her room before the dawn broke- still dark out, she thought no one would be up in the training yard. But she was wrong- the Hound was there, sharpening his huge sword. A sword so unlike her own, a sword he had made fun of- something she would show him he would soon regret. 

   The Hound- Sandor Clegane, she had been surprised when she heard he was with Jon fighting against the Night King- Arya had assumed him dead. And apparently so had her sister, the both of them quite shocked to hear he was all the way up north.

 And her sister- her sister was acting a fool. Making lovesick mooneyes at the Hound. The Hound? The bloody Hound? The Hound was making Sansa blush and giggle like an idiot?

 Not that Clegane was much better, avoiding eye contact and trying his best to sneak around her sister- they were both acting like a bunch of children mooning over their first crush. 

  God they both needed to grow up!

She certainly had- she wasn't a child, though the way she was dealing with Gendry wasn't much better. Except her situation was in reverse- her being the one to avoid the subject by just ignoring it, and Gendry following her around like some puppy. 

  “Hound!” She called out, only to see him keep sharpening his deadly tool- instead of rising to the bait like she wanted. 

  Instead it was a cool response- one in which he didn't even look up to say, “Wolf Bitch?”

Arya growled in response, unhappy that it was him who had succeeded in rilling her up. She walked straight up to him, before pulling out her sword- an open invitation for a fight, one she would welcome.

  “Ahh I see you've still got fucking Needle, eh? Plannin to do something with it... Tell me- am I still on that list of yours, wolf bitch?” He smiled in a gruesome way that pulled at his scars, something that would have put the fear of Gods in any normal man- but only made her laugh.

  “Maybe- i'm not sure yet, Dog. No. I know what I'll do, I'll kill you after you finished serving my Kingly brother. How’s that sound?”

 He stood up then with the smile still there, getting ready for the inevitable fight the girl obviously wanted, “Careful, girl- if you don't kill me now, some southern asshole might do it for you.” 

  As much as she might have hated him at some point, Arya realized she had missed the sarcastic banter that had seemed to gone missing when she went to Braavos. Dammit- she had missed the Hound!

  Like an idiot.

Only one way to fix being an idiot- fight it out!

  And fight they did- back and forth they went, her speed and agility made her a solid opponent. But his size and strength, meant whenever he did make contact- she went flying. It was fun- exciting, exhilarating.

 Though she would never admit it to the woman, fighting with the Hound was better than fighting with Brienne- she was too cautious, too afraid to hurt her. But not Clegane, he treated her the way she wished to be treated- like any other opponent, disregarding her gender. Exactly how she wanted it to be- she didn't want people to be afraid to fight her because she was a girl, she wanted them to be afraid to fight her because of how fierce she was. 

  And Clegane couldn't deny she was a force to be reckoned with- she had improved from her days as a child, she made sure of that. They were fighting for at least a few hours and the sun had finally come up, both of them were growing tired- but neither were ready to give up. 

  Until she swept his bad leg and he fell to his knees and she held Needle to his throat, “Alright I yield, girl.”

   She smiled her victory, and she was sure she looked awful- sweating and smiling like a loon- but she wasn't done. Arya went a step further and nicked him under the chin, a playful scratch when she heard a shriek. 

  “Arya!” 

She hadn't realized Sansa had been watching until she saw her come running over, she knelt in front of Clegane and reached out for him.

 “Are you alright?”

Arya scoffed at the tiny trickle of blood that could only be a drop- no more than a nick from shaving, “Calm your tits, sister- no need to be dramatic, it's just a scratch…”

 The look Sansa threw back at her rivaled the ones her mother had once sent her, “Shut up, Arya!”

  Clegane started laughing at the exchange between the two sister, “The wolf bitch is right, Sansa. Tis only a scratch.” 

  Arya smiled a smug smile back at her sister, before offering a hand down at the Hound- he took it, and she used all her strength to pull his large body up.

  “Good match, eh dog?” 

She heard a growl, too soft to come from Clegane and once again turned towards her sister- who wore a mask of fury that took Arya by surprise. 

  “Arya. I'll not have you call him that in my home.” She spoke in a deadly silent voice, a calmness that screamed more dangerous than any shout Sansa could have made.

 “Why not? He doesn't care.”

She hadn't realized they had drawn a crowd from the spar between the two until Sansa turned towards the rest in the courtyard, “If I hear that disgusting name from anyone in this household- you'll have me to deal with. You’d do best to spread the word.”

   It was not only the first time she had seen Sansa be so fierce- in a way that made Arya respect her even more. But it was also the first time she had ever seen the big, infamous Hound- blush. Like a little schoolgirl, Clegane mumbled he was going to go break his fast- before he rushed off to his rooms. 

  “Damn Sansa- what was that?”

Arya watched her sister turn back towards her with a flush of what was once anger before moving closer to take Arya’s arm, “I will have him treated with the respect he deserves while residing in Winterfell- and I won't have him subjected to that degrading name in my presence.” 

  Arya laughed at how her sister was defending the Hounds honor, as if he couldn't do it himself- as if he was some helpless babe who needed her protection, “But why? If he had a problem with it he would have said something.”

 “Fine, then _I_ have a problem with it.”

Sansa had pulled Arya along to her room and opened the door, looking at the bath that was still steaming- “Take a bath-you stink….”

  Arya couldn't help but laugh, and Sansa smiled right along with her before she left the room- and left Arya to take as quick a bath as she could before chowing down on anything she could sink her teeth into. 

    The whispers she heard the rest of the day, told of the fight between herself ant the Hound- then the others talked about how Sansa had yelled an ultimatum that dared anyone in the house to ask for her wrath by calling the fearsome Hound _the name that shall not be spoken_.

    It was laughable the rest of the day watching Clegane growl at anyone who tried to be extra respectful, yet too chicken shit to go against the feirceness that was her sister. 

   He knew as well as she, when Sansa put her mind to something- it wouldnt be challenged, so he growled and grumbled but let it be for all its worth. And she couldnt help but smirk at the Hound that night at supper when Clegane sent a small secret-not-so-secret smile at her sister.


	4. Chapter 4

Sandor walked slowly back through the halls of Winterfell, heading back to his rooms. He had been brushing down his beastly horse- Stranger not allowing anyone but himself to tend to him. It was strange being back in these halls after so long, especially now his position being so different. Back then, he had been the Lannister Dog- a disrespected sword to be used and commanded, and yet now it was as if he was a completely separate person. A person, a real man- Sandor Clegane.

  Here- he was no dog.

The little bird had certainly made sure of that. Sandor could scarcely remember a time when someone had defended him so vehemently. In all his years- it had always been his fists and his sword that made people shut their holes- but with one beautiful wolf-like growl, a word he had grown so used to hearing in regards to himself was outlawed. 

  It had been an interesting afternoon, full of silent whispers behind his back- but not once had anyone called him Dog all day. In all honesty Sandor really didn't give a fuck what anyone called him- but if it bothered the little bird so much, she could ban any and all names that were bound to be spread about him. And when he walked in the doors to the hall to eat supper, Sansa had looked him square in the eyes- and as hard as he tried Sandor couldn't wipe the disgusting smile off his face. 

  Sandor had finally reached his door, looking forward to the soft featherbed that awaited him- craving rest since he knew he would need to be awake in less than eight hours, every minute precious. He looked to his right at the little bird’s door and saw the light still burning under the door, Sandor wondered what she could be doing at such a late hour. Opening his door, he was about to walk through when he heard it.

  A scream.

A scream he knew quite well.

  A familiar sound filled with terror.

A scream that haunted him.

 Her scream. 

And within seconds he was at her door, pushing at it. The door was bolted, but it wouldn't stop him from getting to her- at this point he didn't think there was anything that could. Finally the door gave, the bolt shattered and his sword was drawn- his eyes darted around the room looking for the enemy, and finding none. 

  And he knew, he knew the enemy that had made her scream and cry in agony was an imagined one- one he couldn't fight even if he wanted too. So he sheathed his sword and tried his best to appear calm, knowing it would do no good to wake her if he was just as hyper as she was bound to be. Sandor closed the door behind him, despite everything he knew this was a private thing- something the little bird didn't want spread around her home. 

  Slowly he approached her, as he would with a frightened animal- Sandor cautiously shook her shoulder, trying his best not to frighten her. And knowing he probably would scare her either way- waking up to this face was no reassuring sight.

  He expected screams-

He expected punches and kicks-

  But what he saw when she woke was quite different. 

What he saw were shivers- her whole body shaking with terror.

  What he heard was silence- the kind he knew was practiced.

What he felt was fury- that she had gone through this so many times, Sansa knew exactly how to act so as to not wake the entire keep. 

  She endured in silence.

And it ate at his soul that the little bird was so frightened. 

   Her eyes found his own, and instead of terror in her eyes, he saw relief? 

That couldn't be- “I- I'm… I'm sorry, I didn't mean- I'm sorry I shouldn't have…..”

 Sandor shook his head at her, not wanting to hear her apologies, “Sansa?”

“I'm sorry I fell asleep- I shouldn't have fallen asleep. I know better than that, I'm sorry-” He heard the shake in her voice, but now he could look at her- really look at her. It was now that he noticed the dark circles under her eyes, the frantic shifting of her pupils that reminded him of soldiers who came back from war and could no longer close their eyes for fear of what they might see. 

 Sandor knew this was what Sansa was going through- though she had never been through any real war, it shredded him to think of the pain she had to fight through to be sitting here today.  

 “Little bird, when was the last time you slept? Hmm?” From the looks of her, it seemed almost a full day or more- and he cursed himself for not noticing sooner. 

  “I- I was being stupid, I know better than to fall asleep now. During the day it's better- I can get some rest then. But- but it's just been so hectic these past few days I must have passed out… God I know better than that!” Sandor looked around the room, and saw all sorts of little projects- things she had obviously sat working on all through the night. 

  “I just…. I can't sleep at night- It brings back too many memories. Awful dreams….” He shuddered to think of what might be haunting her. 

 “Sansa I- Tell me what to do, tell me who to kill for you and I'll do it. I will- I'll do anything to make it stop- to make it better for you.” There was nothing more he wanted than to sink his sword into any of the cunts he could imagine that were haunting her mind- and he would do it gladly. Fuck the King in the North- if Sansa wanted to send him across the world to find and kill any of these men, he would do it. 

 “You can't-”

He cut her off- “Bullshit of course I can! Tell me who!”

  Sansa shook her head, “No you don't understand-”

“I don't need to understand to cut their bloody heads off!” His fists clenched in anger.

  “Stop! Shut up- and just fucking listen!” 

It stopped him in his bloody tracks, and he felt like a child again being scolded by the memory of his mother- but he listened to her command and shut his trap. 

  “I thought-” She stopped and took a deep breath before beginning again, “You once told me that killing was the sweetest thing there is, and I thought that statement ridiculous- said only by men who never knew happiness..” Sandor dropped his head in shame, thinking back to that drunken night when he had acted a complete ass. 

  “Until I found out I was wrong- but so were you. Because killing them had been the most pleasurable thing I had ever done in my entire life…. But it wasn't enough- how can it be the sweetest thing there is when I still need more? When I had them executed, how could I still have this burning emptiness inside me that lives with me every time I close my eyes? How? After everything they did, how is death fair?” He had no words- no answers for her that would make it better. 

  “I am alone in my grief- I can't tell my family the extent of my pain. Jon would never understand- not because he wouldn't want to, but because he believes there is still good in this world. And Arya, my beautiful sister Arya- how could I explain it to her? She would run off and try to fix it- try to kill someone in hopes it would make it better. But i'm tired of killing- tired! God I'm so tired- how can I be this tired at such a young age? And Bran? That's ridiculous- he isn't my brother anymore! He's this Three Eyed Raven or whatever that is- and he already knows, he saw what happened to me! But there is a divide in him- like the emotions are gone, separated by something unnatural! I have no one!” 

  She was crying, and he was on the verge- something he hadn't done in a long time. His tears were sadness and grief for her and how he wasn't there for her- but Sansa’s were different. Her tears were of anger and frustration- and that he could understand. He couldn't count how many times as a youth he had cried for what he couldn't control- for the horror his face was, for what his brother had made him. In this he could understand. 

  “So there’s nothing- no one you can kill that isn't already dead, no one you can kill to protect me. Unless you know some sorcery that will let you slay the demons in my head, alright?”

  It was quiet for a while, silence from both of them- he just looked into her Tully blue eyes, and she gazed back. Something he still wasn't used to, and he tried his best but this was uncharted territory. An enemy he couldn't slay- a problem he couldn't fix, but wanted to anyway. 

    “So… so tell me what to do.” Sandor quietly broke the silence- and hoped she had an answer. 

 “Just- just stay…. I won't be going back to sleep, so we could talk? Or something- anything, I don't care. Just don't go.”

 So he didn't.

 He didn't leave- he sat in the chair at the table, and watched as she started sewing some stupid thing and the next thing he knew it was morning. She was still sitting there like it was some crazy thing that the Hound was face down on her table- no doubt snoring away. He mumbled something he hardly understood himself and rushed out of the little bird’s rooms, acting like he had to sneak out like some greenboy, afraid he would get caught sneaking out of his mistresses chambers after a naughty night- when that wasn't it at all. 

   God damn he needed to sleep. A proper sleep. 

 But something told him it would be quite a while before he got anything that resembled a good night's sleep for a long time.


End file.
